


Ode to My Comrade

by orphan_account



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, Introspection, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24181603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Commie is in love.
Relationships: leftist unity - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	Ode to My Comrade

Ancom is engrossed in one of quis books, quis curls falling softly over quis forehead. Commie is supposed to be reading his own book, but he can't tear his eyes away from Ancom and quis curls, from the way quis eyelashes cover quis eyes. Qui's so beautiful—Commie isn't a religious man, but if he was, he could have mistaken Ancom for an angel in the golden glow of sunset. The orange light creates a halo around Ancom's ruffled hair and catches on quis smile when qui reads a sentence qui likes.

The leftists are supposed to be doing a book exchange right now; Ancom is reading Mao's little red book, and Commie is reading Goldman's _Anarchism and Other Essays_. Though Commie used to often mock anarchists before he started working with the other extremists, his time with Ancom gave him a newfound appreciation for anarchism, and though qui would never admit it, Commie suspects that Ancom has a newfound appreciation for Marxism-Leninism too. This month, the two leftists are reading books that the other person recommended, because they both wish to understand the other ideology more. Commie has enjoyed reading about anarchism; though he still finds it unscientific and utopian, he understands the ideology a lot more now. He'll have to ask Ancom about how quis opinions have changed at the end of the month.

But even before this whole book exchange thing, Commie has always had an admiration for his fellow leftist, much more so than he appreciates the right-wingers in the house.

Ancom showed Commie that strength is not always in armies and tanks. It is also organised insurrection, Molotov cocktails through bank windows, graffiti on cop cars. Power is the hope of the people when they fight back against the rise of fascism, the radical love you feel for your comrades in the face of capitalist isolation and hatred. Commie may have his armies, but he feels he doesn't have the sheer power of Ancom. Ancom doesn't gain quis power from any kind of military strength; quis strength comes from the common endeavour of humanity for freedom, from quis unconditional solidarity with quis comrades.  Commie has always admired that.

Commie thinks he's learning to admire Ancom in new ways as well. He admires quis emotions—fiery anger at every injustice in the world, blinding joy at small acts of hope and revolution, passionate love for quis comrades, and quis hope for a better future. Ancom is something special, something Commie rarely sees even in his fellow leftists.

And Ancom might smash Commie's skull in if he admitted this, but Ancom is so  _adorable_ too. If you bring quem a joint, that's enough to make quis entire face light up. Qui can be like an excitable puppy sometimes. Or when qui's sleepy, with quis head tucked into Commie's chest—qui looks so small like that, miles away from the militant anti-fascist who punches Nazis with no remorse.  Ancom is an incredible person, and Commie feels so privileged to know quem— every side of quem, from the soft Ancom who curls up to nap beside Commie, to the furious Ancom who gives fascists black eyes.

"What you staring at?" Ancom asks, a hint of a smirk on quis face. Qui has finally looked up from quis book, now meeting Commie's stare.

"I—er..."

"Since you seem to be bored by your book, why don't we go to bed now, comrade?"

Ancom speaks as though qui is holding back laughter. How long has Commie been staring? And how much of the staring did Ancom notice? Commie blushes as  crimson as the Soviet flag, and hopes that the dim dusk light hides how red he has flushed.

"That... sounds like a wonderful idea, comrade. Let's go."

**Author's Note:**

> to anyone who may follow me: i am sorry that this is how i came back to ao3 lmao
> 
> to anyone who found this fic through the Centricide tag: hi, hello, I have written some leftist unity for you nerds. Also I refuse to write an illiterate Ancom. Ancom reads theory, change my mind
> 
> [This is me writing about how brilliant ancoms are](https://i.imgur.com/RGeLRfq.jpg)


End file.
